


Silver Shadows

by Cassy27



Series: Nessun Dorma [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: And Wesley loves Wilson, Angry Sex, Angst, Dubious Consent, Jealous!Wesley, Jealous!Wilson, Kind of AU, M/M, Matt is caught in the middle, Porn With Plot, Wilson loves Wesley, You can't convince me otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 06:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3926953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassy27/pseuds/Cassy27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt was defenseless, powerless, and ready to be used. And Wesley would use him, however he liked. “Truth be told,” He said, “I need you.”</p><p>Wilson’s attention has been focused on Vanessa and Wesley feels neglected. Now that they’ve finally captured the devil of Hell’s Kitchen, Wesley knows the perfect way to demand his employer’s attention again. He lures Matt into his games and Wilson becomes acutely aware of how possessive he is of Wesley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> My first try at Fiskley, but of course I had to involve Matt somehow. I had such fun writing this, so I hope you guys will enjoy it! 
> 
> There will be a few parts to this universe. I have named the series 'Nessun Dorma' because that song, sung by Luciano Pavarotti, is what I have been listening to while writing this new OTP. The title of this particular story comes from 'Breathe You in my Dreams' by Trixie Whitley. I do not own anything!
> 
> Thank you, GreenLoki, for beta'ing this story and generally being a kick-ass friend!

His footsteps echoed off of the walls, announcing his presence to the blind man bound in the middle of the room. For so long, their operations had been thwarted by the masked vigilante, and to see him now, tied to a chair, his bare torso covered with cuts and bruises … It sent a shiver down Wesley’s spine. But besides the excitement that coursed through his veins, there was anger, too.

The man who had fought them and hindered them was _blind_. It was beyond humiliating. Had he laughed with them? Had he told that friend of his, a lawyer, too, about how he foiled their meticulously laid out plans? Did they laugh together at them? The mere idea had Wesley’s hands balling into fists. For months Wilson had felt powerless, _he_ had felt powerless, but no more.

Matt Murdock’s eyes shifted around, searching for the origin of the footsteps. Wesley was well aware of his heightened senses, but he had nothing to hide, so he wasn’t afraid of Matt listening to his heartbeat. He would find it calm and steady.

“Wesley?” Came Matt’s strained voice.

“How could you tell?” He asked in return. He didn’t approach the man, not yet, and circled around him instead.

Matt’s head turned, his eyes now fixed on the floor – though Wesley wondered if Matt could fix on anything. He was aware he wasn’t entirely blind, that he saw a world on fire, but it was difficult imagining what exactly that looked like.

“Your breathing,” Matt said after a short silence, “It betrays you.”

Wesley hummed. “And what betrays Mr. Fisk?”

At that, Matt’s upper lip curled in disgust. “His heartbeat,” He answered, “It’s too slow.”

Halting a few feet behind Matt, enjoying the way the man stayed apprehensive, Wesley folded his hands before his stomach and let silence drag on between them. Excitement turned to energy. He could feel it running just underneath his skin like electricity.

“What about my heart?” He eventually asked.

It was a joy to see Matt swallow heavily. “The pace is quickening,” He said, “You’re preparing for something.” Wesley was glad Matt couldn’t see the smirk curving the edges of his lips upwards. “If you want to torture me, just get it over with.”

“You won’t reveal anything,” Wesley replied with a shrug, “Besides, I believe you know nothing to begin with. You’re just a damaged soul working on your own, trying to do what is right. Torturing you is pointless.”

“Then why are you here?” Matt snapped.

Wesley ignored the question and closed the distance between them. He circled back around the man, coming to a halt in front of him. Matt’s big brown eyes looked up at him, but they didn’t focus on him, not really. A frown creased his brow. “You caused my boss a lot of trouble. His associates started to doubt his abilities which dented his confidence. You … shifted the existing connection my boss and I share.”

Matt’s breathing quickened. “So you’re here for vengeance.”

“No, not quite,” Wesley sighed, because honestly, it was difficult to explain. And this was Matt, the man he could call his nemesis, so why bother explaining anything to him? He was defenseless, powerless, and ready to be used. And Wesley _would_ use him, however he liked. “Truth be told,” He said, “I need you.”

He sunk down onto Matt’s lap, their bodies close, interchanging heat. Matt tensed and his eyes widened. He tugged at the restraints tying his hands behind his back and shifted in his seat – or tried to, but failed, Wesley’s weight keeping him in place.

“What are you doing?” He demanded with panic lacing his voice. It was the first time he so openly revealed the fear flooding his system. Wesley had been present each time he had been tortured, and each time, Matt had suffered through it with grace. And sarcasm. Hell, he’d grown to like the man. But now, driven into a corner, Matt finally broke the illusion that he was more than a man. “Get off of me.”

“No,” Wesley said. His gaze raked across Matt’s body, started with his face. Blood colored the skin just underneath his right eye, someone having cut him there, and there was a nasty bruise on the left side of his face that looked particularly painful. His torso was littered with cuts and bruises, some old and some new. With the tips of his fingers, Wesley traced the wounds and he enjoyed the way Matt hissed whenever he brushed across a particularly sensitive spot. “I explained to you, Matthew, that I’m in need of you.”

“I much prefer the torture.”

“I suspected there was a sadomasochistic side to you. Let’s elevate it to a whole new level.”

“You get pleasure out of this?” Matt growled.

“Yes, don’t you?”

“Fuck you!”

“That’s what I thought,” Wesley chuckled, “I’ve seen every torture session my boss has put you through. I’ve watched you being beaten and cut and suffocated, but you’ve trained yourself to withstand that pain. At least, that is Mr. Fisk’s explanation. I have a different clarification.” He shuffled a little closer and sank his nails into a fresh cut just underneath Matt’s collarbone. Matt hissed and threw his head back. “It’s not so much that you can withstand the pain, it’s that you _enjoy_ it.”

Matt’s chest was heaving and Wesley could feel the beating of his heart against his ribcage, wild and erratic. Wesley leaned in close until his lips brushed against the shell of Matt’s ear. “I’ve watched you squirm, but not because of the pain you’re put through. You squirm because of the pleasure it brings you.” His tongue flicked out and traced the outer line of his ear. “Isn’t this what you like?” He asked, sinking his nails even deeper into the wound.

“No, stop,” Matt whined. His eyes fluttered shut and he let his head fall sideways, away from Wesley, but Wesley caught his chin and kept him in place. Matt sucked in a deep breath and let his gaze fix on a random point in space. Wesley wished the man could look at him, actually _see_ him. “If this is a new way of torture, then it’s not working. I won’t tell you anything.”

“You really need to start listening, Matthew,” Wesley said, irritated, “There is nothing you _can_ tell us.” He pressed his body down and rolled his hips – and ah, there it was, the first sign of Matthew’s body betraying him. “Does your lawyer friend know what you like?” There was poison in his voice. “Does he hurt you so you can find release?”

“Stop, just _stop_ ,” Matt begged. His voice was beautiful like that.

“I didn’t think so,” Wesley continued. He dragged his nails down an unmarked piece of skin, tearing it open. “Do you hurt yourself then?”

“No, no, I don’t.” Matt’s breath was fluttering within his chest. His gaze turned hazy, more so than usual, and his tongue flicked out every other second to wet his lips. He was no longer denying Wesley’s words, nor was he begging for it all to stop. It was almost pathetic how easily he broke. “Wesley … Please …”

“Please, what?” Wesley asked. He brushed his lips against Matt’s and smirked when he found Matt leaned into the touch, like a desperate whore dying for attention. “No one knows this side of you, am I right?” He waited until Matt shook his head and rewarded him with another delicate kiss. “No one knows you get hard when someone lavishes you with pain and attention.”

Matt groaned, his head falling forward, but Wesley would have none of that. His grip on Matt’s chin tightened and he lifted his head again. “You’re lucky that I need you,” He told him, his voice low and husky, “And that I’m such a generous man.”

“I don’t want this,” Matt said, his voice near breaking. There were tears in his eyes.

“Don’t lie to yourself, Matthew,” Wesley reprimanded him. He flicked his fingers against a cut closer to his hip. Matt gasped in pain and something else entirely. “That’s better,” He smiled. He rutted his crotch against Matt’s, feeling his hardness grow and spurring on his own. The confinements of his trousers were excruciating, but it wasn’t time for that just yet.

“Tell me what you want, little devil,” Wesley said. He dipped his head and sucked bruises into the flesh of Matt’s throat. Much to his amusement and delight, Matt curved his head back, baring his throat for him. “You must want more than this?”

“Yes,” Matt breathed, then, “No.”

Wesley chuckled and looked at him with only amusement in his eyes. He wished Matt could see it. “Truly, it’s admirable that you try and fight your urges, but it’s okay.” He brushed a hand through Matt’s soft hair, smoothing it back. “Once, just this once, you can give into them.”

“Maybe I don’t want to give into them with you,” Matt spat at him.

“Rude,” Wesley sighed. His fingers, still carding through Matt’s hair, grabbed hold of them, fisting them, and tugged at them, forced Matt’s head back. Wesley sucked at the pulsating vein in his neck, drawing soft, whimpering noises from his throat. “I’m going to make you cum, and maybe, just maybe, I will let you live afterwards.”

“Shit, what do you want?” Matt cried.

Wesley rolled his eyes. “I told you what I want,” He said. Without preamble, he unzipped the black jeans Matt was still wearing and shoved his hand down them, easily finding Matt’s semi-hardness. He curled his fingers around it and pumped it vigorously, tempting it into full hardness. With the way Matt was moaning, he could tell it was working.

“If only you could see yourself,” Wesley said, and yes, he knew that was a poor joke, but Matt was just asking for it. He was writhing in his seat, hips desperate to buck up into his fist, but Wesley’s body kept him in place. “You beg me to stop, but your body definitely wants me to keep going.” When the first drops of pre-cum gathered at the tip of Matt’s cock, Wesley stopped, but his hand remained firmly around Matt’s cock, squeezing the base, not allowing him to cum just yet. “You can have me,” He whispered lustfully, “Would you like that?”

“Have … you?” Matt echoed, confused.

“Yes, Matthew, have me,” Wesley said, annoyed, “Do me, screw me, bang me, fuck me. Must I draw you a picture?” Then, “Oh, wait.”

Matthew growled and lunged forward, but with his hands tied behind his back, the rope binding him to the metal of the chair, he had little room to move. Wesley laughed the sound vibrating around them.

“Sorry, bad joke,” He said.

“I’m starting to think I’m not the only one desperate,” Matt grunted, his dark brown eyes alight with anger and frustration, “Are you not getting any, _Wesley_?” He spat out his name like it was the vilest word he had ever tasted on the tip of his tongue. “Are you so hopeless you turn to a bound man who can’t fight back?”

Wesley pursed his lips, letting the words sink in, weighing the truth to them, only to realize that he didn’t care. Maybe he was desperate and hopeless. After all, this had nothing to do with Matthew Murdock. No, this had everything to do with Wilson Fisk. Matt was just a means to an end.

“Given the chance,” He began as he loosened his grip on Matt’s cock, “Would you even fight me?” Slowly, leisurely, he dragged his fingers up the thick vein at the underside of Matt’s hardness. He didn’t miss the way Matt shifted his hips, seeking more of his touch.

His silence answered his question.

“That’s what I thought,” He murmured, and as a reward – because he did so love to reward Matthew, to see his body react wantonly to his touches and ministrations – he flicked his thumb over the leaking slit of Matt’s cock. The gasp it drew from Matt’s lips was divine, and Wesley couldn’t control the urge to lean down and kiss him, properly kiss him.

His tongue explored every inch of Matt’s mouth and tasted him. Matt moaned and pulled his head back, as if trying to break the kiss, but at the same time, he parted his lips and licked at Wesley’s bottom lip.

“Fucking tease,” Matt cursed once Wesley pulled back.

Wesley chuckled. Finally, after a few long, excruciating, but exquisite minutes, he unzipped his own trousers and freed his aching length. He took himself in hand and stroked himself, moaning at the feeling. His eyes fluttered shut and he wished it was Matthew’s hand around his cock, stroking him, squeezing him. Perhaps one day it would be.

Perhaps not.

Stepping back, Wesley removed his shoes and, after fishing the small bottle of lube out of the back pocket of his trousers, he pushed them down. Once they pooled around his ankles, he stepped out of them and moved back to sit on Matt’s lap. He smiled when Matt instantly, almost instinctively, thrust his hips up, their cocks lining together against their stomachs.

“Eager,” Wesley mused.

“I’m done playing your game,” Matt said.

After pouring a generous amount of lube into the palm of his hand, Wesley grabbed hold of Matt’s erection and coated it with the clear liquid. He didn’t miss the way Matt bit down on his lower lip, refusing to make a sound.

“Do you wish you could see me?” He couldn’t help but ask. He withdrew his hand and reached behind him, pressing a wet finger against his already loose hole. He’d prepared himself before coming into this room. This had been the plan all along, after all. Still, a bit of extra lube could never hurt. “Do you wish you could see yourself?”

“Are you getting curious?” Matt asked. His dark eyes flickered across the room, as if searching for … something, but not finding anything. “Untie me and I could feel your face. Then I would know what you look like.”

“Nice try,” Wesley laughed, the sound genuine, “Another time perhaps.”

He lifted his hips and shuffled a little closer towards Matt, their chests touching. He reached down and guided Matt’s cock to his hole and, after testing the waters and knowing that he had stretched himself enough, he sank down. Matt’s length shifted inside of him. It felt … strange, but good. Wesley released a breath he hadn’t known to be holding once Matt’s cock was sheathed completely inside of him.

Matt sucked in a deep, sharp breath. “That’s …” He began, but didn’t finish.

Different, Wesley nearly finished for him. Wilson was thicker than Matt, but Matt was definitely longer. Wesley couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this full. His hands brushed down Matt’s shoulders before gripping his upper arms, searching for support and balance. Slowly, carefully, he lifted his hips, only to sink back down instantly.

He’d used enough lube, so Wesley knew he could go for a quick and brutal pace – it was what they both needed. With his fingers sinking into the skin of Matt’s arms, he set a quick and brutal pace, riding Matt and focusing on the burn his cock created. His own cock, leaking against his stomach, twitched every time the tip of Matt’s cock nudged his prostate.

“Shit,” Matt breathed.

Wesley brushed one hand through Matt’s hair before tugging at it, harshly. He enjoyed the way Matt’s eyes teared up right before he squeezed them shut. Without thinking, Wesley bowed forward and let their lips crash together. Matt sank his teeth into Wesley’s lower lip, until he drew blood, and Wesley reveled at the sensation.

“Oh God, I’m gonna–”

Wesley silenced him with another kiss. Matt’s cock spurted cum, filling Wesley’s ass, but Wesley didn’t stop. He continued to ride him, focusing on the feel of Matt’s seed sliding out of his ass, down his balls and thighs, until his own orgasm wrecked through his body. Wesley’s lips formed a perfect ‘o’ and, as if Matt could see it, he kissed him, his tongue exploring his teeth and gums.

Once the high of their orgasms ended, they slumped against each other. Wesley’s hand was still entangled into Matt’s hair, his other one clasped tightly around Matt’s upper arm, forming a bruise. With the tip of his nose, his eyes closed, he traced the sharp line of Matt’s jaw before dipping his head in and burying his face in the crook of Matt’s neck. He inhaled sharply and surrounded himself by Matt – only for a second.

“Well then,” He said, suddenly straightening his back and putting some distance in between them. He had what he needed from Matthew and the moment was over. “Thank you,” He added, “For cooperating.”

Matt cursed, spitting out the words.

“Aren’t you a filthy little catholic boy,” Wesley grinned. He stood and, after cleaning himself up a bit with a handkerchief, he got dressed again. And because he was in a good mood, he got Matt decent, too. “Until next time, little devil.”

Matt cursed again, demanding what the hell had just happened, what the point of it all was, but Wesley no longer needed him, so why bother giving him an answer or two? He put the now dirty handkerchief back into the pocket of his trousers and turned away from the blind man.

Without another word, he left.

• • •

He straightened his tie as he approached the open door. Wilson was giving orders to his men for the night and listening to the reports of the day, but nothing interesting had happened. Nothing interesting happened anymore since they had caught Matthew Murdock. Wilson ordered the men to leave and, even though he’d spotted Wesley standing there, he turned his back on him and focused on the grid plans scattered onto his desk.

With a small, but very frustrated sigh, Wesley took a few steps forward, letting it be known that he wasn’t present to just stand around – though there had been a time he would have loved to just be around Wilson. But that had changed now.

“I heard you went to speak with our guest,” Wilson spoke as he remained bent over the plans. As always, he articulated every word carefully, chose every word carefully, which was one of the reason Wesley liked him as much as he did. He loved to listen to him speak.

“I did,” He simply answered.

There was a short pause, before Wilson glanced over his shoulder and asked, “And?”

“We had a lovely talk,” Wesley smiled sharply. He moved towards the window that gave sight of the East side of the industrial area. For the moment, they had set up their base in an old, abandoned factory. Here, no one could hear Murdock’s screams.

“That’s it?” Wilson asked, one eyebrow raised. Finally, he straightened his back and forwent the grid plans. There was a twinkle to his eyes, one he always had when he sensed something wasn’t quite right.

“What can he possibly tell us?” Wesley asked, his smile never fading nor faltering. “He’s a blind lawyer with special skills. He operates alone and he wishes to stop us. That’s his plan. Not much of a plan, granted, but it’s been effective so far, hasn’t it?”

Wilson growled under his breath. “So you have wasted time,” He concluded.

“No, I wouldn’t say that either,” Wesley turned away from the window and studying every shift in Wilson’s expression. Usually, he was a very withdrawn man, a bit shy even, and he certainly didn’t express his emotions save for anger and frustration and madness. Everything else, he locked away so very carefully, but every now and again, he dropped his guards and revealed them to Wesley.

Not anymore, though.

Not since Vanessa.

“Spill it then,” Wilson said, impatient.

“We had a lovely chat.” Wesley licked at his bottom lip. He liked to think he could still taste Matthew’s mouth on his, even though that had happened hours ago already. “Our vigilante is a complicated man, Wilson, you should know that by now. He enjoys putting on the mask. He enjoys thwarting us. But more than anything, he enjoys the fight.”

“Yes, you mentioned before how he likes the brutality of it,” Wilson said nodding.

“I wanted to talk to you about that the other day,” Wesley continued, his dark eyes locked with Wilson’s light brown ones, “I thought of a way to break him, to use his sadomasochistic side against him, but then Vanessa arrived and you …”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Wesley,” Wilson had the nerve to roll his eyes and turn away from him, “Is this about your jealousy again?”

“Yes,” Wesley replied.

The sharp honesty of his reply drew Wilson’s attention right back to him. Wilson frowned and pressed his lips tightly together until they formed two thin lines. He was clearly clueless to how he should reply, which was a first. Wesley huffed out a little laugh. It had come to this – Wilson no longer knowing what to say to him.

“I understand, Wilson,” Wesley began, nodding, his gaze focusing on the dirty tiles beneath their feet, “You need her. After all the damage Matthew has done to you and your image, you had to set a form of dominance. You had to prove to the men that you still have all the control, that life goes on, that you even have time for romance in your life.”

“Wesley,” Wilson sighed.

“You said it was a farce,” Wesley continued stubbornly, “And yet you spend every second you can spare with her.”

“Your jealousy is unwarranted,” Wilson pressed, “You know you are who I–”

“Yes, I know,” Wesley’s eyes snapped back up to Wilson’s, and truly, he could see Wilson believed his own words, “I am the one you trust. I am the one for who you build a better tomorrow for. You have told me that again and again. It’s just … It’s getting difficult to believe that when you are romancing Vanessa. Do you like her?”

Wilson remained silent.

Which was answer enough.

Wesley huffed out another humorless laugh. “Matthew is quite something, isn’t he?” He asked, switching the subject, though not entirely. He stepped along the withered wall, the tips of his fingers brushing the rough bricks. It reminded him of Matt’s bruised and battered skin. “You should have seen how easily I twisted him, how easily I wrapped him around my little finger.”

Wilson’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, which was for the best. Wesley worked him, sure, and he had undivided loyalty for him, and love, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous himself. And Wilson knew it, had seen it before plenty of times. Wilson always got what he wanted, but so did Wesley.

“What have you done?” Wilson demanded after a short silence.

“Imagine if he worked for you instead of against you,” Wesley mused, the left corner of his lips quirking upwards, “Wouldn’t that solve so many issues? But alas, I doubt Mr. Murdock would ever abandon his beliefs, his values, for you.”

“Wesley, you speak in riddles,” Wilson said through gritted teeth. He took a step away from the desk and closer to his personal assistant, and another, and another, and then stopped, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled sharply. “You smell … different. You smell of … _him_.” His eyes widened in realization.

“I had him writhing and twisting beneath me,” Wesley grinned contently, “He filled me, Wilson, and he gave me such pleasure. The cuts and the bruises, they excite him, and with the right words and the right touches, I unlocked him.”

Wilson stood before him in the blink of an eye, because for all his broadness, he could move surprisingly swift. The muscles of his arms rippled underneath his suit, preparing to latch onto him, but Wesley didn’t even blink. Wilson stood so close their bodies touched. His back was pressed firmly against the brick wall behind him and Wilson’s rapid heartbeat was noticeable between them.

“You …” Wilson was struggling to get the words out, which didn’t happen often, but whenever it did, it betrayed the emotions twisting and turning inside of him. Wesley stared into his eyes, refusing to speak before Wilson said more. “You … let him … touch you?”

“He couldn’t,” Wesley replied. His voice was sharp, but thin. There was no denying that Wilson’s close proximity threw him off balance, that the mere touch of his body excited him, that the wild, unpredictable gaze in his eyes filled him with passion. “He is tied down and I’m not foolish enough to release him. No, _I_ touched _him_. And _I_ allowed him inside of _me_.”

Wilson’s hands folded around the collar of his shirt and squeezed, his knuckles turning white. “Because you are jealous?” He demanded. “Because you wish to hurt me?”

Wesley slapped his hands away, the gesture startling Wilson who actually stumbled back. There was no more empty humor in Wesley eyes. There was only anger and spitefulness. “I’m surprised you still care,” He bit out, “And I’m surprised you lower yourself to such hypocrisy.”

Wilson looked seconds away from exploding.

“You twirl Vanessa around for the whole world to see,” Wesley continued, knowing all the buttons to push, and he planned to push them repeatedly, because it was time Wilson understood just how fed up he was with this … mess. “You lavish her with attention and gifts and touches and kisses. You share her bed, everyone knows it, but that’s okay. It’s _not_ okay that I let another man fuck me?”

“But … _Matt Murdock_ ,” Wilson sneered.

“Yes, your arch enemy,” Wesley laughed, which sent Wilson over the edge.

Fingers curled around his throat and cut off his oxygen supply. Wesley instinctively tried to suck in a deep breath, but found that no air reached his lungs. His hands latched onto Wilson’s wrist, trying to push it away, trying to free himself, but Wilson had always been stronger than him. The edges of his vision were already darkening.

With a feral growl, Wilson lifted Wesley up in the air with just a hand wrapped around his throat. Unconsciousness was threatening to claim him. His eyes felt like they were about to pop out of their sockets, but just as he was about to pass out, Wilson released him, stepping back.

Having no strength left in his legs, Wesley sunk to the floor, his hands instantly moving around his throat, feeling the sore skin. He coughed and inhaled as deeply as he could without hurting himself – though that was impossible. It felt like he was inhaling fire.

“You should leave while I still allow it,” Wilson said.

He turned his back to Wesley, which was not how Wesley wanted this moment to proceed. With newfound strength, he climbed back up to his feet, using the wall behind him as support. His chest was heaving with overexertion.

“I leave,” Wesley said, “And you return to Vanessa?”

Wilson stood unmoving in the middle of the room.

“Tell me truthfully,” He added, “Do you love her?”

Wilson lowered his head.

With calculated steps, Wesley approached him and once he was close enough, he reached out a hand and brushed the tips of his fingers down Wilson’s backside. Wilson shivered at the touch.

“I do not,” Wilson said.

“Then, do you love me?”

Wilson turned around and away from Wesley’s hand. “You betrayed me.”

“You ignored me.” Wesley, being the stubborn man that he was, boldly took a step towards Wilson, entering his personal space. Wilson could touch him if he wanted to. “You made me desperate, and desperate times called for desperate measures.”

“You think I have not been jealous?” Wilson demanded. “I see how others look at you. I see how they adore you. There is nothing I can do about it. I accept it.”

“Well, I don’t,” Wesley argued, and with fresh energy drawn from the ache to his throat, from the frustrations gathering just underneath his skin, he latched onto Wilson’s vest and pulled him close. Their lips crashed together in a frantic kiss. Wilson cupped the back of his neck to keep him in place – not that it was necessary. Wesley refused to break the kiss.

Wilson pushed Wesley back, their mouths moving against each other with furious familiarity, until the back of Wesley’s thighs knocked against the edge of the desk. With ease, Wilson lifted him onto the surface, on top of the city grid plans, and positioned himself in between Wesley’s parted knees. Eventually, the need for air became too much.

“Wesley,” Wilson breathed, and the tone in which he said his name was Wesley’s undoing.

“Prove it,” Wesley said. He rested on his elbows and looked up at Wilson hovering above him. “Prove to me just how jealous you have been. Prove to me how angry you are about what I have done. _Prove it!_ ”

Wilson’s mouth was on his instantly. His hands scrambled to remove Wesley’s trousers. He tore at them, yanking them down, and Wesley lifted his hips to aid him. Wilson stepped back just far enough so he could drag them down Wesley’s legs and threw them aside, leaving Wesley half naked and vulnerable. Wilson didn’t stop there, though. He tore open Wesley’s shirt, the buttons clattering onto the floor, and let his hands roam the pale skin of his abdomen.

“You are mine,” Wilson said, the words heavy on his tongue it seemed, “You know this.”

“I don’t,” Wesley said.

Wilson leaned down and sucked a nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling over the pinkness until it turn red and hard. Wesley arched up into the warmth and wetness.

“I don’t,” He repeated.

Wilson replied by biting down into the sensitive flesh. It was becoming more and more difficult to think, which was probably for the best. Wesley shrugged off the torn-up shirt. He was entirely naked now, a shocking thought when realizing that Wilson had yet to lose one item of clothing, but like he realized before, thinking was difficult, so the thought was fleeting.

“Wilson,” He moaned. He writhed beneath him, reveling at the way Wilson was kissing a path down his stomach. “Sir …”

He didn’t know how he could have missed it, but Wilson had unzipped his trousers to free his cock. It hung hard and heavy and Wesley couldn’t wait to feel it tear him apart. Matt had been a pleasure, but Wilson … Wilson was much more than that. He was pleasure and pain, possessiveness and adoration.

Wilson withdrew a little and wrapped his hands around the back of Wesley’s knees. He pushed them up, towards the Wesley’s chest, and spread them as far as he could. Wesley’s cheeks flushed pink and heat spread through his veins, pooling in his crotch, fueling his erection. Wilson looked down and hummed at the sight. Wesley knew what he saw; his ass, clenching and unclenching around nothing, seducing him.

“You _know_ ,” Wilson echoed his previous words and, without preamble, brought the tip of his cock to Wesley’s unprepared ass and began to push in. This was his punishment, Wesley knew that, and he loved it. The slow burn ripped a moan from his lips. “You crave my attention,” He said, a statement.

“Yes,” Wesley confirmed, “And you were abusive to deny me that.”

At those words, Wilson pushed in all the way with one smooth, but forceful motion. Wesley cried out, his head tossed back and his eyes squeezed shut.

That. Fucking. Hurt.

So good.

“Isn’t that what you like? Abuse?” Wilson inquired with humor in his voice. With his breath caught in his chest, Wesley picked up his head again and glared at the man. “You are quite something, Wesley.”

“And _you_ are usually not so talkative,” Wesley snapped at him.

Wilson nodded and, without another word, he set a quick, brutal pace, thrusting in and out of Wesley. There was no lube and the only preparation was what had been left of Matt’s girth stretching him. Wesley’s eyes turned teary, but in between the pain of Wilson fucking him hard and rough, there was pleasure. Each time Wilson hit that perfect spot inside of him he whimpered and begged for more.

His cock leaked onto his stomach, neglected. Wesley reached down to touch himself, but Wilson angrily slapped his hand away. “No,” He warned, all humor having left him again. There was only ferocity and frustration. “You will cum from my cock alone.”

“ _Wilson_ ,” Wesley groaned. His hands scrambled around him, looking for purchase.

Wilson didn’t touch him. He held onto Wesley’s thighs, keeping them spread as he fucked him. Wesley felt like he was losing his mind. He didn’t know what to do without himself. Wilson was tearing him apart, and he loved it, but he also hated him for it.

Hands grasping at the edge of the desk by his head, Wesley let out a string of curse words as he could feel his orgasm nearing. Wilson leaned down and sank his teeth into Wesley’s collarbone and the sharpness of the pain sent Wesley over the edge. He spilled over his stomach and chest and pushed his hips down, wanting, needing more of Wilson. And Wilson, thank God, obliged, pushing in deep and staying there.

The muscles of his ass spasmed around Wilson’s length, spurring on his orgasm, and to feel the man fill him, warm seed coating his walls, had a whine slip from Wesley’s lips. He turned his head sideways, wishing to hide his face, but Wilson caught his wrist and with his other hand he grabbed hold of Wesley’s chin and forced the man to look at him.

“Are you satisfied now?” He asked.

Wesley refused to blink, refused to break eye-contact, no matter how hard it was to bear Wilson’s gaze.

“For now,” He settled on. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, but remained otherwise still. Wilson was yet to pull out and, right now, he wanted to enjoy the feel of his girth inside of him. “I am yours,” He added after a short silence, “But possession works both ways.” He could feel Wilson’s eyes on him like a touch burning his skin. “Are you mine?”

Wilson sighed and pulled back, which was answer enough, and it fucking hurt. Wesley sat up, fully aware he was entirely naked – on the contrary to Wilson – but he didn’t care. It wasn’t the first time. He stared at Wilson, studying his body language, noticing how Wilson turned away from him and cast down his eyes.

“It is not that simple,” Wilson sighed.

“Of course it is,” Wesley replied with a tight, hurt voice. He stood and gathered his clothes, pulling them on – or what was left of them. His shirt was torn, but he could cover it up with a vest. “Either you say yes or you say no.”

“And if I say no, will you walk away?” Wilson asked, glancing over his shoulder at him.

Wesley pursed his lips, letting the question sink in. “I could never walk away from you,” He said after careful consideration, “But either I am your personal assistant or I am more than that.”

“You are much more than that,” Wilson said instantly, but it wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

His silence conveyed that.

“I shall talk to Vanessa,” Wilson said. Wesley never liked the way he spoke her name, like it carried such weight when it wasn’t supposed to. That should be reserved for his name. “For I am yours.”

At those words, he smiled. Wesley straightened his back and inhaled deeply, relief flooding his veins. “Thank you,” He said, the two little words carrying much more than their pure definition. They carried more than mere gratitude. They carried affection.

“No more … Matt Murdock,” Wilson said as he turned to face Wesley, “I do not share precious property.”

Wesley’s smile transformed into a grin.

“Of course,” He said, inclining his head, “Sir.”


End file.
